


Pretty Little Nightingale, Oh To See You Drop

by princey_pie



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo - Pie Chart [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Blood and Injury, Chains, Fae Magic, M/M, Unsympathetic Morality | Patton Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:01:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27111595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princey_pie/pseuds/princey_pie
Summary: Be careful where you travel in the woods or you might end up like Roman if you're lucky (or not, depending on who you ask)(Part of the Bad Things Happen Bingo Card - Damaged Vocal Cords)
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Royality - Relationship
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo - Pie Chart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930993
Comments: 7
Kudos: 32
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo, TSS Fanworks Collective





	Pretty Little Nightingale, Oh To See You Drop

Idle chatter wafted through the twilight. A distant sound that could be easily mistaken for a flock of birds singing to each other hidden in the dark trees. But if one were to try and follow the sounds through the nightly woods, the path would lead them over a whispering stream, liquid foaming silver swirling around large pebbles that glinted in the light of the full moon. A few spray drops of sparkling water would catch onto the nightly traveler's bare feet and then drip into the rick dark moss underneath with every step, before it was quickly replaced with a carpet of fallen leaves despite autumn still slumbering in the crip of time. The distant noise would grow louder and turned into a near rumor, now no longer birds but voices swelling and crescendoing with the treetops as the warm summer wind ruffled their leaves.

And the very few who would still find it wise to follow the voices were greeted with the sight of a clearing dipped into moonlight and the first hint of morning dew. The silver sheen was only briefly chased away by the heat of the golden torches lining the edge of the clearing.

And then there was, of course, the court. A few dozen more or less humanoid figures swarmed and danced around each other to the music of lyres and flutes. Occasionally in the crowd, there was a flashing of fangs or the torchlight reflected from colorful scales or feathers. 

Above that pandemonium throned a man. The bright smile that showed too many teeth was as cold as if etched into cool marble, not warm flesh, and just as dead. The smooth blue silk he had wrapped himself into whispered with the slightest of his movements. The quiet clicking of his fingernail against the polished wood dictated the rhythm of the court, echoing like the heartbeat of the woods over the clearing, not able to be drowned out by the loudest instruments.

A golden chain led from his other hand to the man kneeling at his feet. His skin was bare except for the gold chains and jewelry possessively wrapped around his chest, neck, and arms. Roman had a vacant look in his eyes as he gazed up at his king.

Barely taking his eyes off the revel, Patton turned his attention to his newest acquisition. "Do you enjoy the gathering, my little sparrow?" 

His eyes sparkled as Roman only mindlessly nodded, a faraway look on his face. 

His gaze glided over the revel once more and even some of the guests had to suppress a shudder as they felt their king’s attention merely brushing them like the first wind of a tropical storm.

Not finding anyone worth his undivided attention Patton let his eyes roam over his pet once more. He raised his hand. The instruments and the chatter died immediately, not a single breath could be heard to interrupt the king as spoke. 

“Why don’t you sing for us again, my dearest robin?”

Roman opened his mouth a few times and closed it again with no sound escaping his lips. When he finally spoke, his voice was little more than a hoarse rattle. “My king, I- I can’t, it’s-”

A sharp yank on the chain cut off his voice and sharp claws dug into his cheeks as the king’s crystal blue eyes pierced into his soul. 

“Sing.”

One word was enough, the slightest hint of his silver tongue enough to make the trees bend away in fear and even the summer wind paused its flying path for a second, wrapping the clearing in static silence.

No mortal or fae could ever hope to resist the king’s voice and so the king’s pet stood, exhaustion evident in his sluggish movements. Then he began to sing. No matter how much his throat ached and burned, he still weaved the melodies into the darkness of the night with an enchanting clarity. Occasionally a cough interrupted from his chest, almost doubling him over if it were not for Patton's spell. It left red droplets on his lips every time, and still, he picked up his melody every time.

On his throne, Patton smiled, the first real smile he’d allowed himself tonight. As he enjoyed the music and the choking sounds equally, he simply wondered if his nightingale would live longer than the last.


End file.
